Emperor Bless the Irish
by vuarapuung
Summary: A small band of Imperial Elites, including Commisar Friel, are sent to a local planet to bring good old fashioned Imperial justice to a rogue general.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: Warhammer 40,000 is a registered trademark of Games Workshop.

The planet of Saris was a bit of a mixed blessing to the Imperium. On the one hand, it was very rich in resources, and the locals didn't put up much of a fight. On the other hand, it was so far away from anything that you could even consider calling a civilised world. Its remoteness really made it a bit useless.

So, the hot shots on Terra decided to appoint a rather… eccentric general, rather than waste a perfectly good one, who had grown famous among the Catachan army. This was General Krull. With a name as pleasant as that, what do you think the first thing he did as governor of his own planet was? Why, to declare himself the true ruler of the universe of course.

So, the big daddies on Terra felt that they had to do something, so they dispatched a legion of Space Marines. Of course, none of them ever returned. A little irritated, they sent a Junior Inquisitor along with three legions of Space Marines to try and find out what the problem was.

Three weeks later, the Inquisitor turned up back at Terra, rambling something about how Krull was the supreme ruler of the Universe.

Now Terra was sitting up and taking notice. Not only was someone dispensing so easily with the mighty Space Marines, but now they had some nutcase running around on Terra with no idea how he got through customs. Seeing no other option, they called upon Inquisitor Lord Jarskan, who had once served alongside Krull, to deal with the problem. With him, Jarskan brought the Irish-Cadian Legion ("Because the Emperor's Irish at Heart") and the legendary Commissar Friel, to try and return the planet to Imperial rule and restore peace to the galaxy…

**Chapter 1**

The Luck o' the Irish star cruiser floated menacingly over the planet of Saris, surrounded by several smaller battle vessels. Deep inside the labyrinth like halls of this big thing the senior members of the Legion were meeting.

"You still have not answered my question!" Colonel McNeilly barked across the table. "Who should play you in the movie?"

"I think it is too early to discuss such trivial matters," Captain O'Leary calmly pointed out. "We may die by the next page." Pause. "And it would have to be Brad Pitt anyway." There was a collection of groans from around the table.

"Brad Pitt can't play all of you," Jarskan pointed out. "That's just silly."

"And Samuel L. Jackson has to play someone," Lieutenant Finnegan pointed out. "He's in everything." There was a general murmur of agreement.

Seated around this table were five very influential members of the army, and then there was Finnegan. Each one represented a large number of troops. Except Finnegan, who wasn't fit to represent a burnt out match (he only had one platoon under his command). You might then ask why he was on the council. Well, his platoon had become famous after conquering an entire planet by themselves. Of course, the big shots on Terra didn't know that this was a rather small, under-populated world which hadn't yet got past the sticks and stones form of weaponry. It didn't matter; all that mattered was that this young (only fifteen) prodigy should be on the council.

Other members, such as Captain O'Leary, were slightly more respected. O'Leary had once attacked a city, single-handedly, and so won his captaincy. When asked how he did it, he usually mumbled something about needing the bathroom so bad he could kill.

Colonel McNeilly had ascended to power by displaying competence during battle (something virtually unheard of in this legion) many times, as opposed to the one-off flukes that everyone else got promoted for.

Commissar O'Riley was the perfect example of the Commissar. Anyone who looked like quitting was shot. To date, he had executed three hundred and ninety-seven Imperial Officers, over ten thousand guardsman, and twenty-eight innocent civilians (when the latter was brought up he always protested that they'd been blocking the way to the bar). He had a wee scorecard to show all these.

Lord Marshal Mailey, the leader of the legion, was the oldest of them all. By about fifty years. The fact that Commissar O'Riley hadn't felt the need to execute him yet was an achievement in itself. He was asleep for most of the councils, most of the day, and only seemed to wake up to eat and watch Eastenders (it had been the Emperor's favourite soap opera, so he had passed a law that it could never be taken off the TV. This is what the Emperor does all day- he watches old episodes of Eastenders).

And then there was Inquisitor Lord Jarskan, who thankfully wasn't Irish. Jarskan's had a habit of locating the most bizarre Imperial Guardsmen in the Universe, and hence unlock that potential to leave even the most intelligent of heretics scratching their heads. Hence, he came to the Irish-Cadian Legion.

"I wanted to be Tom Felton," Lord Marshal Mailey answered, without opening his eyes.

"But he's like sixteen," Finnegan said blankly. "That's like me saying I want to be played by Sean Connery."

"Yes, but I want to show how I've preserved my looks," Mailey told him.

"This is all well and good," Jarskan cut in. "But who's going to direct?"

There was a general "ah" from around the table.

Down on the planet, General Krull was in his really big, nasty-looking castle, having a nice little chat with his advisors.

General Krull was a man of average height, sitting with his feet up on the table, still dressed in the Catachan uniform (if you could call it that) that he'd been wearing since he was old enough to hold a gun. Around the table were Prince Varsk of the Saris Royal family, Captains Larenth and Tyshan of Krull's army, Cardinal Bryant, "Sir" Charlie and standing behind Krull was his trusted lieutenant, Lieutenant Jones.

Varsk was sitting uncomfortably to the left of Krull, being used to his nice big throne, dressed in the usual over-the-top fancy la-de-da stuff that he always wore. Next was Cardinal Bryant, who was dressed in the customary purple robes. Then, farthest away from Krull, was Captain Tyshan, wearing his green uniform. Across from Tyshan, Larenth was dressed in a slightly more casual Valhalla F.C. football shirt (he was an avid fan) and tracksuit bottoms. Krull had always supported "casual Friday." Jones was wearing his favourite jeans and a really over-sized T-Shirt.

The most interestingly dressed member of the party was Charlie, who was wearing his pyjamas. It was near his bed time you see, because he was five. Why Krull had hired a five-year-old as his advisor was anybody's guess (most people suspected he'd been on the wrong end of one too many orbital bombardments) but he seemed to take Charlie's advice a lot more seriously that any of his other advisors.

"First order of business gentlemen," Krull said. "What do we do about this company picnic to Terra? I'd promised the lads we'd have one before Christmas, but it looks like our invasion of Terra may have hit a bit of a setback."

"The Cadians just off-world?" Tyshan asked hopefully.

"Don't be ridiculous," Krull snapped. "They'll be gone by Thursday. It's that it clashes with the football season, and I can't miss any of Catachan United's matches."

"What a shame that would be," Larenth joked.

"What are you laughing at ice-boy? This year we'll win the league."

"I think I have a solution sir," Tyshan popped up. Krull ignored him.

"What about you Charlie, do you have any ideas?" Krull asked the child.

"Yay!" Charlie shouted, looking up from the picture he'd been drawing. "Picnic! Picnic!"

"Okay," Krull said, as if Charlie had just come up with the greatest idea he'd ever heard. "We'll have the picnic this weekend, but where?"

"Disneyland?" Tyshan said mockingly.

"Shut up if you like the number of testicles you have Tyshan!" Krull roared.

"Disneyland!" Charlie said.

"Brilliant!" Krull said in awe. "We'll go to Disneyland!"

"But sir, I just-"Tyshan started, but he was cut off by Krull taking a shot at him. Luckily for Tyshan he had a natural ability of know when to duck.

"Well, we're well on track here," Krull said, putting down the gun. "We'll have the picnic next week at Disneyland! Jones! Make sure they have the big roller coaster working!"

"Yes sir!" Jones said with a salute, before marching out of the room as if he'd just been given a VERY important mission. And compared to the crap Krull usually set him, it was.

"Next order of business," Krull said, taking out his notebook. "Who's responsible for the floater in the upstairs toilet?"

As the scene ended, Varsk and Bryant looked very upset that they hadn't had a single line of dialogue in the first scene. That's usually a sure-fire sign of how expendable they are.


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: Warhammer 40,000 is a registered trademark of Games Workshop.

**Chapter 2**

Now, let's face it. The first chapter wasn't all that promising. But there is a very good reason for this. Curiously, one of the main characters has only been named once, where as these nobodies who are almost certain to die within a few chapters have had several lines of dialogue. Why is this?

Because this man needs an introduction like no other. From one end of the galaxy to the other, very few will have any idea who he is. Hence, you need to be informed.

Commissar Friel's exploits were the stuff of legend. It's just that the universe is such a big place it's hard to keep track of one man. After all, who else could boast they'd got totally hammered and challenged a daemon prince to a one on one contest, and then live to tell the tale (seven thousand times a day)? Who else had lead an assault on a mighty Ork fortress, with no casualties? And, who else had actually survived after drinking SEVEN PINTS of Dark Eldar whiskey?

Stuck for an answer are we?

Unfortunately, he has also been held responsible for the destruction of several planets (albeit rather small ones), he's been striped of rank thirteen times (but he has been reinstated) and he's a raging alcoholic. So, I suppose it's probably a good thing you've never met him.

Friel always dresses in the green Commissar uniform (as opposed to red) typical of the Irish-Cadian Commissars. With him, he always brings his plasma pistol, power sword, and his patented "Bag 'o Frags". This is his massive bag of frag grenades that he is never seen without.

Friel also brought with him a team of skilled veterans. The leader of this was a skilled Sergeant, but the veterans tended not to show him any respect so he was just Phil. Phil was, as he liked to put it, "hairly challenged". In other words, his head was shiny enough to blind you if you looked directly at it.

Then there was Paddy, Seamus, Barney, Chuckie, Sean, Ricky, Eddie, Gerry and Toby, but there's far too many of them to give descriptions of.

A curious point about the 40th millennium. Priests are not quite the sane as they are now. True, they are the preachers of the Emperor's word, but they are also fairly similar to the modern psychopath. Father Duffin is a very interesting example. Having served with Friel so long it really is no surprise just how far round the twist he's gone. Like all holy men of this time, he loves his giant Eviscerator. The only thing he likes more, in fact, is drinking. The members of Friel's veterans wondered if this was what happened when you hung around with Friel for too long.

Friel's job was to "dispose of" General Krull by infiltrating the castle. Now, of course, this was not going to be easy, because first they had to find the castle. You'd think that in this day and age finding a bloody great castle would be a breeze. You'd be wrong, as no Imperial had ever really bothered to map Saris, or even count how many castles there were on Saris. Well, you and I know there are thirty-six castles on Saris, but they don't know that. So, alas, the only option was to knock on the door of each castle in turn, and see who answered it.

So, the Wilsons weren't exactly too chuffed when a load of strangers dressed in bright green showed up at the door, looking rather worse for wear and demanding to know where General Krull had run off too. So, Mister Wilson told Commissar Friel to go and do something to himself that would have required a much more flexible spine than Friel possessed.

Friel shot him, and then proceeded to frag the place.

Moving on to the next castle (although they knew fine rightly Krull would probably be in the last place they looked) they found it abandoned, so they couldn't cause any more mishap.

After several more attempts, the team decided (or rather, Commissar Friel ordered them) to take a break. So, they did what all Irish people do when they're depressed. Or when they're happy. Or chuffed, excited, under the weather, sad or feeling a bit OK-ish. Basically, what all Irish people do, every day. They went for a pint down the local.

Upon entering the veterans proved how utterly one-dimensional (and expendable) they were. Toby made a bee-line for a group of women at the bar. Chuckie ordered A LOT of food, and began stuffing his fat face with peanuts. Barney retreated to the corner, and began amusing himself by burning beer-mats. Friel, Duffin, Seamus and Phil took up seats at the bar. Almost as soon as they sat down, Seamus began peppering the Commissar with out-of-place compliments. Phil muttered something that may or may not have involved the word "brown-noser".

However, one of the patrons was becoming increasingly loud. Near the door, a beardy looking bloke was surrounded by several giggling women, whilst boasting loudly about how great he was.

"And then, Krull signed me up for this _very_ important mission," he said, putting emphasis on the word on italics. "He offers me this big salary, to hunt down these three nutters. Like a Commissar! Ha, there isn't a Commissar for miles. And even if there was, I'd blow him to bits like that!" He slapped his hands together. At this, Duffin got up, and walked over to the table.

"May the Emperor have mercy on you," he said calmly. "Because I won't." This last statement was followed up by ripping the unworthy assassin limb-from-limb.

With this, Friel picked up the assassin's ugly head, and asked the bartender:

"Is there a post-box nearby?"

General Krull was adamant that his army be brought up to scratch. The Imperium had been unwilling to provide a fully-trained army to Krull whenever they had first sent Krull to Saris, so Krull found himself forced to train them himself. His first act had been to give them proper target practice. Originally, none of them had been able to hit a man-sized target at ten metres. So, Krull gave them a rather uplifting speech, the highlight of which was:

"Any one of you that can't hit a man size target at ten metres by the end of the day will be used for target practice."

The prospect of being tomorrow's target forced the men into shape. Now, Krull's men began to look like a real army. Now they had assassins, snipers, foot-soldiers and tanks. Not to mention the Space Marines (who were getting a bit sloppy to be honest with you).

It was during target practice that Krull received a curiously head-shaped package. Captain Tyshan wasted no time in informing Krull he thought it looked like a head.

"Thank you Tyshan, I would never have guessed," Krull told him sarcastically, dropping it into a nearby garbage-disposal unit. He gathered his advisors around him.

"It seems as though Friel noticed my assassin," Krull said. "We need to be a little more cunning. Varsk, I'll need more assassins."

"Of course sir," Varsk exclaimed delightedly at his first line of dialogue.

"Tyshan, time for target practice! You're not worming your way out of this one!"

The advisors then had the rare treat of watching Krull try to rig it so that Tyshan couldn't hit a man sized target at ten metres. But Tyshan was an expert marksman. Frustrated by not having an excuse to execute Tyshan, Krull took his anger out on an unsuspecting sniper who had always had a problem with nerves.

Now, contrary to popular belief, Commissar Friel has a limited source of initiative. This is evident in the fact that he managed to get a package delivered to Krull, even though he didn't know where Krull was. He had simply addressed it to General Krull, in the hope the post office filled in the gaps. However, he also decided to plant a homing device in it, suspecting that General Krull wouldn't open it if he knew it was a head, and almost certainly wouldn't be scanning incoming heads for said devices. Thus, through Friel's cunning, they knew the exact location of the garbage disposal unit in which Krull had deposited his new head.

So the veterans set up camp in a nearby village (which was the same one they were in a few pages ago). The group seemed delighted at the prospect of clean beds, however then Friel dropped the bomb that they'd only be getting two rooms in the inn. And the Commissar always had a room to himself. So, the eleven others were stuffed into one room with only two beds, which Father Duffin and Sergeant Phil were obviously going to get. The rest were shoved on the floor, and Toby was shot in the leg for asking if he could bring any girls into the room.

Then they set out to try and find a plan to get into the castle and kill Krull. Sergeant Phil had suggested infiltrating the castle from several sides, sneaking through the halls, and then jumping Krull when he was on the can. Duffin promptly told him to stuff it, and suggested his favourite method of approach. Imitating someone delivering Chinese food, and whenever they open the door you charge in head first, guns blazing and likely get killed within a minute and a half _if you're lucky_. This method was agreed upon by all.


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: Warhammer 40,000 is a registered trademark of Games Workshop.

**Chapter 3**

All in all, Krull was rather pleased with himself by the time the week started up again. He'd managed to track down the assassins that were after him, he'd delayed Jarskan's planned invasion, and he'd completed the daily crossword puzzle without any help, except the occasional hint from Jones. So, when his advisors informed him that Jarskan had requested a video contact Krull was feeling very generous, so he agreed. Then he gave the lucky guard standing next to him a massive pay rise.

The mood wouldn't last.

Yes, Krull's day was once again ruined by the fact that Tyshan had survived through yet another week, and then had the nerve to show up. Of course, if he hadn't then Krull would surely have executed him personally, but as it was he had no excuse.

Hence, Krull was slightly snappier by the time his meeting with the advisors arrived later in the morning. Seated about the usual table (where all men are equal, except General Krull who is better than anyone, and Captain William Tyshan who is less than shit) they got about to the days business.

"Burn them all!" Cardinal Bryant shouted randomly, deciding that he wouldn't try developing a personality because he'd be killed off far too soon for that, and he may as well strive for regeneration in the sequel because he was a good way to score a cheap laugh. Unfortunately, he didn't know the entire Cadian army already served this purpose, so he was screwed from the outset.

Prince Varsk however, was slightly more optimistic about making it to the end of the story, so he decided to show a personality. He was young, greedy, and unintelligent and had his own plans for world domination. Whenever he told someone his plans, all they ever remembered was that it involved an army of chickens, thirty seven battle cannons and six tons of coleslaw. With that, I saved you the trouble of having to listen to him for THREE DAYS. So you should reward me by taking me off your hit list. Go on, be a legend.

So, it was Varsk who suggested tactics to through Jarskan off balance during their video meeting. Krull muttered something about showing him one of his chief advisors diced and served with a side of curly fries, but the advisors dismissed it as a joke. Krull however, wrote it down in his notebook.

"Get really pissed," Jones began with his favourite phrase. "And then start mooning him."

"We can moon him without having to get drunk," Tyshan said angrily.

"But being totally hammered is a great idea!" Krull barked across the table. "The best idea Jonesy here has ever had." Tyshan mumbled something that may have included the words "bulls hit." Then again, it may have been something else entirely. Charlie chose this moment to add something very intelligent and totally worthwhile to the conversation.

"Poo-poo." Tyshan laughed sinisterly, but Krull seemed to take it as a valid suggestion.

"I'm not sure having a crap in front of him is the right way to go," Krull said. "But I'll note it down."

"What the hell!" Tyshan shouted, standing up. "Why do you take this little fart seriously Krull? Can't you get it into your head that he's a child, and whereas he churns out all this rubbish you take him a lot more seriously than fully qualified advisors! WELL I'M SICK OF IT!"

"Bad man," Charlie said defiantly.

"SHUT UP YOU LITTLE BASTARD!" Tyshan screamed. At this Charlie started to cry. Krull snapped.

"There you go Tyshan, are you happy!" he roared. "Are you happy you made him cry?" Tyshan began to mumble. "Because that's what you've done Tyshan, you made him cry!" More mumbling. "Does that make you feel big Tyshan? Huh? Does it make you feel big that you made a little boy cry? Well, does it? How do you feel Tyshan? Answer me you asshole!"

"YES!" Tyshan shouted, snapping out of his confusion. "It makes me happier than I've ever been before! Now I can go to a happy grave knowing that I made your tiny advisor cry! There, I said it!" There was silence, save the crying of Charlie.

"Nurse, please take Charlie to his room," Krull whispered, gesturing to the nurse who looked after Charlie. She led the little crying boy from the room, leaving a deathly silence in the room.

For what seemed forever Krull merely stared at Tyshan, who was starting to sweat. Jones was glaring at Tyshan. Varsk was determined not to look at either of them. The Cardinal was in silent prayer. Larenth was listening to the football match through his headphones, completely oblivious to all that was going on.

Then, Larenth stood up and punched his fist into the air with an almighty "YES!" This was the moment Krull chose to strike. As Tyshan whipped out a pistol, Krull was upon him, wielding two power swords. With a clean cut, Krull took off each of his hands, grabbed the gun, and pistol-whipped Tyshan to death before cutting off his head.

"Oh dear, I appear to have made a mess," Krull said, grinning like an idiot, while everyone else just stared. Except Larenth, who was doing his happy dance. Either he hated Tyshan, or the football scores were really going his way.

With perfect timing, the giant screen on the wall behind where Krull would have been had he been sitting flicked on to show the features of Inquisitor Lord Jarskan and the commanders of the Irish-Cadian army, seated around their desk.

"Lord Jarskan," Krull said happily. "You'll be interested to know I just executed one of my lead advisors." He then drop kicked Tyshan's head out through the window for good measure. "Hey, we have the same table."

Clearly Jarskan was stunned by what lay before him. On the ground was a bloody corpse, and there was Krull with a sword covered in blood addressing him as if they were best friends. To top it all off, one of the advisors had taken his shirt off, clearly celebrating whatever was happening on those headphones, while an Imperial Cardinal and a member of the Saris royal family sat there stunned.

"General Krull, how nice to see you," Lord Marshal Mailey said cheerfully. "How's the family."

"A nightmare," Krull answered, sliding into his seat. "The daughter's still pissed at me. I mean, how was I supposed to know that would happen whenever I smeared her mother with sheep's blood and tossed her into a pit of wild lions? It's an easy mistake to make."

"I'm sure it is," Jarskan assured him. "But we are not here to discuss such trivial matters. Down to business. What are your demands?"

"Why, the Imperium on a dinner plate my friend," Krull answered. "It is mine by right after all."

"What makes you so sure?" Finnegan asked bluntly. Krull merely grinned.

"When you've been in as many battles as General Krull here, the brains get a bit addled," Commissar O'Riley informed Finnegan. "He's got a modem, there's just no connection if you catch my drift."

"Don't listen to him Lieutenant," Krull said cheerfully. "Oh, and by the way. My congratulations on passing the average life expectancy for a Junior Officer. A hell of an achievement, if you don't mind me saying."

"Not at all sir," Finnegan said, a little abashed.

"Enough of this Krull!" Jarskan barked. "What do you want with Saris?"

"I want everything Alexander," Krull answered, addressing Jarskan by what was almost certainly not his first name. "I want power, fame, wealth and women. Especially the women."

"That may be why your daughter hates you so much," Finnegan pointed out. Krull gave a sound of disgust, before contemplating this further.

"I thought it was because I cut off her boyfriend's testicles," he mumbled. With this, the Irish-Cadian officials raised eyebrows in such a perfect unison you would think they'd practiced it for a year beforehand.

"What?" Jarskan asked uncertainly.

"It's what I do when someone pisses me off," Krull said. "They get three strikes," he ticked off his fingers. "The first offence is the right one, the second offence is the left one, and then strike three the nob." Jarskan stared. "I cut off a lot of people's testicles. As a matter of fact, Charlie and Jones are the only members of my council who still have two. I went to see a psychiatrist about it." Jarskan looked scared now.

"He said it was because I was gay. So I cut off his testicles for calling me gay."

"How nice," Mailey said, however Krull seemed to pick up momentum.

"Then, the other day, I cut off my daughter's boyfriend's testicles and gave them to her in a jar. She wasn't pleased, I can tell you."

"Imagine that," Jones muttered.

"I don't know about anyone else, but I'd love to get someone's testicles in a jar as a present. Don't you think?"

"I think this is getting us nowhere," Jarskan said, holding his head in his hands. "I'll just have to kill him to shut him up."

"Do you like testicles Lieutenant Finnegan?" Krull asked. "I know Tyshan did, though he preferred them on a man rather than in a jar."

Krull went on like this for another twenty minutes, so Jarskan hung up.


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: Warhammer 40,000 is a registered trademark of Games Workshop.

**Chapter 4**

One of the first things Commissar Friel had drilled into his veterans was that you could tell how great the night before was by how horrible your hangover was. Seeing as all the veterans felt like a pack of gorillas were inside their heads, waging war upon their skulls it was quite clear that the night must have been a good one.

So, when Friel came in the veterans were rather loathe to move. Until Friel cut off one of Toby's fingers and then threatened to cut something else off every one of them if they didn't move it. Needless to say, they moved it.

Seeing as the plan was pretty straight-forward it looked as though the hangovers-from-hell would have no bearing on the performance of the squad. However, when Sean tried to walk through the wall Friel decided that it would be best to take a bit of a rest. Eventually, Friel was forced to admit that it was unrealistic to expect Sean to fire in a straight line, and they'd have to leave it to the next morning. So, he himself got wasted.

The next day, with the squad slightly more self-aware, although Sean still had to be nudged in the right direction from time-to-time, they began their siege of the castle. However, it wasn't exactly a walk in the park assaulting a castle with only twelve men. Of course, first they walked up to the castle carrying bags of Chinese food.

"Special Delivery for a Mister Krull," Friel said into the speaker at the door.

"Who is it?" a man asked through the comm.

"Chinese food." Pause.

"Go away, we don't like Chinese food."

"Of course you do. Everybody loves Chinese food."

"Not us."

"What? Seriously?"

"Seriously."

"Emperor's Damnation, you're weird." However, at this point Paddy had worked out that the people in the castle didn't like Chinese food. He wasn't happy.

As Paddy broke down the door with his bare hands he found himself facing a solid line off Krull's best troops, their guns raised towards the door. And so, Paddy was blown to pieces by lasgun fire. How embarrassing.

Then, Duffin strolled in. Krull's squad was a little taken aback, unsure what to do about a man of the clergy. However, when Duffin started lopping heads off it became quite clear.

Alas that they should have been interrupted by Friel winging frag grenades all over the place. In the momentary confusion, the veterans choose their moment to charge. So the entrance hall was filled with gun fire, regular fire ("Touch the Commissar uniform with that flamer Barney and I'll tear you a new arse") and of course blood.

Poor Toby was the worst off, as Friel had cut off his trigger finger. So when he tried to fire his gun, he found himself in a bit of a pickle. Friel was watching Toby, and mistook Toby's inability to fire as cowardice. A Commissar to the end, Friel shot him.

"Alas, the universe was not ready for me," Toby muttered before going limp and landing on the floor in a pile.

With all this blood and gunfire it became hard to tell friend from foe, and as Sean was pretty confused (he may have been drinking again) it was no surprise that he'd shot Ricky in the back, kicked Ricky to the ground, and then beaten his lifeless body into a bloody pile of goo. Then, he shot himself in the foot, and was forced to sit down, in the middle of the hall, and take a drink from his hip flask.

The others were having a great time firing blindly at the seemingly endless flow of Krull's men, who, no matter how well trained, would never be able to defeat the heroes. It was thus that Prince Varsk arrived on the scene, slightly miffed that security had interrupted his daily ritual of sleeping in until four. Drawing his pistol, he gave a great leap across the hall, and began to beat Sean senseless. Of course Sean was already senseless from all the drinking, so it didn't take long until Varsk had the pleasure of beating Seamus to death, as all of us want to do at some point.

After a bit more fighting, including the violent and bloody deaths of Krull's finest troops, the veterans, now numbered eight, were escorted to a detention area. Eventually, Phil, Duffin and Commissar Friel were called to lunch with Krull.

They entered a rather over-decorated room to find Krull and several others, including Prince Varsk, seated at a big round table. After being escorted to their seats, they called for booze, and lots of it.

"Ah, at last we meet," Krull said cheerfully. "The legendry Commissar Friel, the mighty Father Duffin and then Phil. I've been looking forward to this." Friel showed his maturity by making a rude hand gesture at Krull, who laughed like an idiot.

"But of course, where are my manners. I am General Krull. This is Prince Varsk, Captain Larenth, Cardinal Bryant, Lieutenant Jones, my senior advisor Charlie," he gestured to each in turn, and Friel jumped slightly when Charlie was pointed out. "And we are just waiting for Brother-Captain Falking and my daughter, Katie."

There was a bit of silence, until a large man in full Space Marine armour arrived. Only his head was visible, the rest of his body covered in his black marine armour, with white shoulder pads here and there. He was clean shaven, short haired and butt ugly.

"Ah yes, the Captain doesn't like eating with me, and never takes off his armour," Krull said pleasantly. "I guess he's just used to being on uncivilised planets eating out of a can." It was a bit weird for the three that a man dressed in dirty Catachan camo gear was talking about eating out of a can as if it were below him. So too were showers, apparently.

Just as thoughts of attacking Krull with a power hose began to cross through their minds, a young girl arrived. Only in her teens, her long blonde hair was matched with dark clothing, dark makeup, dark jewellery. She looked a bit like a Necron with blonde hair, to be blunt. Friel was suppressing the urge to kill. Duffin was suppressing the urge to kill.

Phil was suppressing the urge to leap on top of her and rip her clothes off.

"What the hell kept you young lady?" Krull asked sternly. "And take that thing out of your ear."

"Get bent dad," she said angrily, sitting down as far away from him as possible. To Friel, the voice reminded him of hormonal teenagers. To Duffin, it sounded like a hormonal teenager. To Phil it was the voice of an angel.

I suppose you know where this is going.

Little did Phil know that Katie was a little bit like a crow. She dressed in black, made a lot of noise and was attracted to anything shiny. And nothing in the universe was as shiny as Phil's big bald head. So, they caught each other's eyes across the table, and a bond that would probably only last the next ten minutes was formed.

Katie said something about going to the toilet, and left giving Phil a big wink. However, Krull was not stupid, and thus immediately ordered Phil to me pistol-whipped before he could go to the toilet.

About twenty minutes later Friel looked up from his meal, wondering where the hell his Sergeant had gotten to. Krull was having similar thoughts, but decided he'd rather not know. So, he pressed on to business.

"Do you think this colour suits me?" Krull asked, standing up and giving a twirl. "I've always thought blue was my colour." Lost for words, Friel and Duffin just gaped.

"I think you'd suit a purple," Jones mumbled, helping himself to the dinner Phil had abandoned.

"Really?" Krull asked. "I've never really liked purple."

"With all due respect, General Krull," Friel interrupted. "I think that there are more important matters at hand. For example, I assume you know we were sent to kill you."

"What? Kill me?" Krull asked in mock shock. "I had no idea."

"You must then understand that I have no choice other than to execute you for treason," Friel said calmly. "So give me a weapon to hurt you with." Krull then gave Friel a hand gesture similar to the one Friel had used earlier. Friel merely smiled, picked up his chair, and smashed Jones over the back of the head with it.

"FOOD FIGHT!" Larenth roared, before throwing some mashed potato at Friel.

Another thirty minutes later, the guards had to carry Larenth's corpse out after Friel had suffocated him using a turnip. Krull wasn't pleased at losing two advisors in as many days, so he ordered the veterans to be executed at dawn.

But first they had to find Phil.


	5. Chapter 5

Disclaimer: Warhammer 40,000 is a registered trademark of Games Workshop.

**Chapter 5**

Unfortunately for Krull, Phil turned out to be a much more slippery character than Krull had first anticipated. Although not all that skilled at hiding (he'd been spotted thirty-seven times in one day) he somehow managed to evade all the guards. This may have something to do with the veterans picking off all the half-decent guards whenever they first attacked the castle, but then again it may not.

Friel was an even bigger problem. Taking advantage of the fact Krull wouldn't execute him until they caught Phil; Friel took the time to piss off the prison guards as much as possible. In fact, he was so good at it that Krull was forced to come up with a rotation system that ensured no guard was within one hundred yards of Friel's cell for more than five minutes at a time for the sake of mental health. So, once again Krull was not a happy bunny.

Then there was the impending attack by the boys currently in orbit around the planet. The fleet of ships was starting to lower morale. Half the TV channels were knocked out.

To make morale even worse, the only TV that still had all channels functioning was very close to a sofa the recently deceased Captain Larenth had chosen to haunt. Therefore, it was the sports channels round the clock (which were the only channels working on all the TVs) unless anyone dared go near him.

Katie was becoming a nuisance too. She'd taken all the floor polish in the castle. When questioned about this, the only answer given was that it was something shiny.

And to top it all off, Cardinal Bryant had been lighting some candles, and ended up torching the west side of the castle.

So you can imagine that Krull was not pleased come Friday morning when he found out that all his high security prisoners had moved during the night. Several had moved into different cells, Father Duffin was in Captain Larenth's old room, Sean was in the bogs with without question the worst case of constipation in the history of the universe (apparently he hadn't answered nature's call for four years, two months, sixteen days, nine hours, twenty-eight minutes and five seconds. Not including the time it took to get it out) and, worse still, there were reports coming through of an Irish nutter by the name of Gerry had shown up on Catachan, somehow located two of general Krull's six ex-wives (two divorces, two executions, two "unfortunate accidents") and had himself a real good time.

Oh, and Friel was in Krull's bed when he woke up in the morning.

Lieutenant Finnegan is well known for the fact that he does absolutely nothing, and somehow gets away with it. Whereas even normal guardsmen can kill aliens, Finnegan has never killed any living soul in the entire course of his life. He can't shoot in a straight line, he's young and inexperienced, and he's more interested in girls than he is in the massive hordes of enemies that tend to charge at him.

In other words, he's the perfect Lieutenant. He might even make a good Captain one day.

Colonel McNeilly however, is competent, ruthless and an exceptionally skilled tactician. In other words, the worst possible person to be commanding an Imperial Guard army.

"The Imperial Guard aren't about strategy. They're about standing beside a Space Marine and hoping that the enemy goes for him." Inquisitor Lord Jarskan in what he described as a "motivational speech." Amazingly, the Imperial Guard suffered no casualties in the battle that followed. But thirteen Space Marine legions were wiped out.

Finnegan had only been a young recruit at that time, but those words rang clearly in his ear as though it was the day they had been said. Well, technically it was, seeing as Jarskan was giving the same speech again.

"But when we go down there we'll have no Marines," Jarskan continued. "Those stingy bastards on Terra won't let me waste the lives of the most elite soldiers in the Imperium for the sake of a few guardsmen. So instead, they've given me a few more guardsmen to play with. So when you go out there, remember this: Nobody gives a damn about you, as long as you win." This was followed by a general murmur of agreement.

"You're crap, and you know you are," Jarskan continued. "But you're Imperial crap! The best kind of crap there is!" Jarskan roared, to the vocal agreement of the guardsmen. "What are you men?" he shouted.

"We're Imperial crap!" they answered.

"And what's so special about that?" he asked in a mocking voice.

"It's the best kind of crap there is!"

"That's right!" he shouted in triumph. "Now get out there and fight like the crap you are!"

General Krull was incensed. He'd dedicated so much time and effort into ensuring that his prisoners didn't escape, and he woke up to find that one was sleeping with him. Not good for the poor guards. Of course, Krull didn't want to let any guards to go to waste, so he didn't kill them. Instead he cut off a few testicles.

So Krull decided to pay a little visit to his daughter. He'd said right from the start (or rather, Jones had) that having her and the assassins sent to kill you within a hundred miles of each other was bound to be trouble. After all, Katie had always resented Krull, and had hired several (hundred) bounty hunters to finish him off. But nothing as bad as sending an Imperial Commissar into his bedroom.

So an epic confrontation began. Katie and Krull shouted at each other for hours, and Phil popped in and out a few times. About midday Jones walked in, and around half past seven the Easter Bunny stopped by for a visit.

"Your mother was a dirty whore!" Krull had snapped.

"So are you!" Katie had retorted.

"She slept with everybody!"

"Not as many everybodies as you did!"

"Is this really the conversation to be having at a tea party?" the Easter Bunny asked.

When Krull emerged from the room, covered in blood, the troops feared the worst.

"Don't worry, I haven't hurt her," he assured them. "This is what I did to the Easter Bunny."

It was clear that the men weren't as upset by the loss of chocolate treats as they would have been it they'd lost the "chocolate treats," - you know what I'm saying?

Friel's constant barrage of taunts was really touching the guards' nerves (Krull had abandoned the prison rotations after the escape), so they decided to taunt him back with the one thing he loved the most.

Beer.

At first it really seemed to bother him how the troops were so clearly loving this, but he shook it off. And between begging for beer he made snide comments about their mothers.

"Right, that's it!" one guard snapped, having had all the "your mother's so fat" jokes he could take. He opened a can, and pointed it at Friel.

"You want the beer, then lick it off the floor!" With that foul line, he tipped the beer upside down and emptied the can.

To Friel this was like beating, raping and then brutally murdering a loved one. Surely, not even the Emperor himself would be able to protect that guard.

Friel ripped off his shirt as his muscles bulged green, his hair turned purple and all his clothes ripped apart from a pair of purple pants he didn't know he wore.

"Friel smash!" he growled, before smashing through the wall and completely and totally obliterating the guards.

Krull's warning systems were going mad on the bridge. Friel was tearing the castle to pieces from the inside, Phil had jumped Prince Varsk when he was on the can, and the Irish-Cadian army was approaching rapidly.

"Somehow, this feels like a Monday," he muttered, before he began banging on the computers.

"Ready the troops, lead them into the battle!" Krull barked at Jones, having run out of officers. "I'll deal with Friel."

Picking up his power swords, he set off to the North Tower.

"I hate the Irish," he said.


	6. Chapter 6

Disclaimer: Warhammer 40,000 is a registered trademark of Games Workshop.

**Chapter 6**

The Imperial Guard are not known for their subtlety. Rather, they're famous in that if they're going to attack, you'd know about it at least a week beforehand. And as any twit can see, their attack on the castle was inevitable.

So Captain Falking was not surprised when a couple of million guardsmen showed up outside the castle. Nor was he unprepared for it. For he had three thousand Space Marines behind him, all armed with the sort of weapons that make Imperial Guardsmen comparable to ice cream. Cold, semi-liquid and delicious.

Of course, you wouldn't bet against three thousand Space Marines now would you? Especially when backed by General Krull's strategic mind.

However, they didn't have General Krull's strategic mind. They had Lieutenant Jones. A tube if there ever was one.

Falking wasn't too happy in that respect. After all, he was now under the command of a nineteen year-old head case of a junior officer. Not nice, eh?

The massive waves of Imperial Guardsmen were met by the lines of Space Marines, as Falking ordered his men to open fire. Bolter fire tore through the Imperial ranks pretty easily. So it was that the Imperial Guardsmen took a lot of casualties. Yet they never stopped coming. But that had more to do with the fact Commissar O'Riley was chasing those at the back with a flamer.

Falking looked up from this playful sport to see missiles and explosive shells strike the castle, as the battle cannons on top of the towers fired down at the guardsmen. Falking then remembered the words of advice a chaplain had given him:

"Firing a battle cannon at Imperial Guardsmen is the equivalent of using a tactical nuke as a weed-killer."

With a smile he got back to the job at hand.

Jones looked down from his high vantage point. All in all, it looked as though the marines might hold the guardsmen off for a while longer, but Jones could easily see that they wouldn't last much longer. He'd sent one of the other Lieutenants to marshal the remaining troops, but it was clear that the Imperial forces were too great.

To top it all off, the Irish-Cadian legion was hiding its greatest asset. You see, the Irish-Cadian force is very ahead of its time, in that it is one of the few forces with all-female platoons. It does, however, take this a bit further.

It is the only army in the universe with an all she-male platoon.

These she-males were nothing to be laughed at. They could drive a Space Marine's logical brain into a total confusion. Was it a man, was it a woman. It could drive you mad.

As if on queue, they arrived.

Jarskan watched in amusement as the Space Marines just seemed to stop moving as the she-males approached. This affect was anticipated, and it gave the more skilled hand-to-hand fighters a chance to sneak up on the marines.

Jarskan drew closer to what he realised was a Black Templar captain, and quickly stabbed him in the gut, before turning his attention to the other dazed marines. To his left he could see the Ogryn squads crashing into the enemy lines, and to the right the she-males beat the marines down with their lasguns.

Jarskan was grinning openly as he slashed down anther marine, before gazing up to the highest tower, where he could just make out several figures.

Even at this distance, Jarskan could recognise a Commissar uniform.

There are many things in life that will always remain a mystery. How did Friel get his Commissar uniform back for example? Or how did the veterans manage to find their way to them? And most of all, why do I keep asking stupid questions that only I know the answer to.

Commissar Friel stood, with Father Duffin, Barney, Chuckie, Sean and Eddie at his side, as General Krull emerged from the castle, wielding a power sword in each hand. This time, there would be no words. There would only be blood.

"Queue the fight scene music!" Friel shouted his traditional battle cry, as the veterans charged forward.

But Krull is a highly experience, gifted general. The veterans are Irish blokes with lasguns.

Krull's dispatching of Eddie was swift and bloody. With a brutal swing of one sword, and a bit of a twirl, he cut all the lasguns cleanly in half, meaning the guardsmen would have to rely on their knives. Which didn't stand a chance against a power sword. Bringing both his swords up, Krull slashed off three of Eddie's limbs, leaving him lying there with just a limb. Then, he initiated one of his favourite moves. Eddie got one sword in the throat, and another in the nads.

All the guardsmen winced.

Chuckie was next. The big fatboy had a sword dragged across his torso, as his guts spilled all over the place, and Barney was buried under them. Chuckie bled to death, and Barney suffocated under him.

Sean was painfully aware that he was the last of the veteran squad (except Gerry, who was on Catachan, and Phil, who was banging Krull's daughter). He had to make a choice between fighting Krull, and getting shot by a Commissar.

He leaped off the edge of the battlement.

Jones never expected a drunken Irishman to land on his head, so he wasn't too pleased when it happened. He quickly scrabbled out from beneath Sean, drawing his sword as he went. Then Sean sat up, apparently thrilled to be alive. However, he wasn't so happy when Friel started spraying shots down from the higher battlements. Neither was Jones, as it seemed to be killed all of his command squad.

As Friel ceased Jones made a beeline for Sean, who was armed only with a puny knife. With a clang of metal, and the falling to pieces of Sean's knife, they engaged. Or rather, Jones chased Sean round in a circle.

Then, all of a sudden, Friel landed on top of Jones, stood up, and began chasing Sean. Being a superior officer, Friel had the knowledge to stop, and Sean ran into the back of him, fell down, and Friel emptied a clip into Jones.

"Soldier, what in the name of the Emperor are you running from?" Friel asked. Sean resisted the urge to say "you" and merely jumped off the tower again.

Friel sighed, and began scaling the wall.

When Friel reached the top, he found Father Duffin facing off against Cardinal Bryant and Krull. He was glad for the company.

"I smite thee down in the name of our most holy Emperor!" Duffin roared, charging forwards and smashing his Eviscerator down upon Cardinal Bryant's axe. Of course, Duffin won, and Bryant became soup.

It was a good thing Krull didn't want to kill a priest; otherwise he'd be a little less solid. As it was, Krull was content to kung-fu kick him onto the lower battlements.

"Never hurt a man of the cloth," Krull told Friel, before turning to face him.

"A brutal murderer's way of making himself feel holy," Jarskan said, arriving on the battlements, his power sword gleaming with Space Marine blood.

"Face to face at last," Krull said happily. "I have waited for this for a long time."

"As have I," Jarskan said. "I remember our time together on Catachan. You were quite a fighter."

"I always will be," Krull jeered.

"Not always," Jarskan muttered.

Krull's blades flashed and made contact with Friel's and Jarskan's, as the two Imperials surrounded the rogue. But Krull was not so easily over-powered. With a flash of metal he knocked Friel off his feet, forced Jarskan to parry both his swords.

As Jarskan parried the swords, Friel attempted a lunge to try and knock Krull off his feet, but to no avail. Krull dodged aside, and Friel went face-first into the wall.

Again Friel tried this, and again. Then he had to stop for twenty minutes to try and fix his nose bleed. All the while Jarskan and Krull fought on, matched move for move.

Until Phil and Katie arrived. For, the sun struck Phil's head at such an angle that it reflected into Krull's eyes, blinding him momentarily. This was all Jarskan needed, as he stabbed Krull cleanly in the gut.

Krull was quite clearly surprised, and his face showed so.

"Just remember this Jarskan," Krull whispered. "The sequel will be crap without me."

So it was that General Krull passed from this universe. He fell backwards, a long way, and landed on some poor guardsman, crushing the poor soul to death.


	7. Epilogue

Disclaimer: Warhammer 40,000 is a registered trademark of Games Workshop.

**Epilogue**

Friel's nose was still bleeding slightly when he gave his report to the leaders of the Irish-Cadian legion. He'd managed to stem the flow with a few tissues (which were sticking out of his nose). And it truly was a sorry report. The loss of seven of the finest veterans in the army (though that wasn't saying much) and Sean had broken every single bone in his body in the fall. But thanks to bionics, he'd be back in action within a week. Phil had requested paid leave, which was denied, so he inducted Katie into the army as one of the new veterans. As she'd lasted more than five minutes in a battle zone, she was already a candidate for a position as an officer, so the council was happy to welcome her, and yes she would be allowed to keep anything shiny she found.

No, not O'Riley's Commissar badge.

Duffin had returned to his home world, claiming retirement. How one retires from the priesthood is beyond anyone, as it is kind of a life-long job, but seeing as he now had none of his original ribs nobody really complained.

Jarskan was sent to Terra, to make a report to the big daddies on the planet. They were not happy at the loss of Space Marine life. They all burst out laughing when they found out how many guardsmen had died.

And as for Saris, it was deemed that they should put a slightly saner person in charge. But when they decided that it would be a waste of a sane person, they put Finnegan in charge.

And what happened to little Charlie, Krull's senior advisor? Well, because of his experience, he was immediately promoted to the rank of Captain.

As for Mailey. He woke up and asked where he was, who he was, and what in the name of the most holy Emperor was he doing in his underwear in the middle of a ship's command deck.


End file.
